


A Little Bit of Give and Take

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drama, Established Relationship, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-22
Updated: 2007-10-22
Packaged: 2018-09-03 09:13:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8706523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Sometimes you give, sometimes you take, but more times than not it’s a little bit of both.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** br / >Part of the Bobby!John ‘verse. Dean is 19, Sam is 15, and John is 49

“I fell into a burning ring of fire!” The two male voices boomed out, floating into the house. “I went down, down, down… and the flames went higher!”

 

The last part of the chorus was screamed, followed by roaring laughter. Bobby’s voice rang out, “And it burns, burns, burns…”

 

“You should get that treated then,” John laughed.

 

“Ah, shut up, Winchester,” Bobby shouted back and there was the sound of splashing. “Ya just don’t appreciate my singing ability. Now where was I...”

 

“Something was burning?” John offered. “Ya know… last time we smelt something burning, my boys lit your barn on fire.”

 

Dean shook his head as he came into the kitchen, towards the back door. He wondered what those old assholes had gotten themselves into. By the sounds of it, he hoped it wasn’t Bobby’s moonshine again. Opening the screen door onto the back porch, he nearly collapsed with laughter when he saw them.

 

Bobby had drug out the old cattle trough and by the looks of the garden hose beside it, filled it up. John and Bobby had stripped off their shirts and were sitting in it, drinking beer. Hell, Bobby still had his John Deere cap on.

 

The sun was beating down hard on both men but it was taking its toll on John. His shoulders were a bit red, as well as his nose. Dean smiled at the thought of listening to his father bitch and moan about the pain of it later that night. They seemed to be a slight bit tipsy, which was a big change from when John solely drank to get drunk. With a bounce in his step, Dean pushed the door open and stepped out on the back porch. "You mean to tell me no one's tried to drown anyone yet?"

 

“Dean-o!” Bobby bellowed out in welcome and held up his beer in toast to the air. “Johnny, your boy here thinks he’s funny. I wouldn’t drown him…” Then Bobby stage whispered loudly when Dean got closer, “Haven’t had my evil way with him yet.”

 

Dean groaned and shook his head. When they got drunk like this… when they were happy, it was always like this. They touched more and flirted badly. It didn’t happen that often, but it was damn funny to watch.

 

"Yeah well, when that time comes give me some warning. I'll be sure to find somewhere else to be." Dean leaned up against the fence, sticking his hands in his pockets. "I'll be honest with you this is probably the most redneck thing I've ever seen....and that's saying a lot."

 

“We *are* in South Dakota,” John laughed and tried to move, but still couldn’t avoid it when Bobby splashed him. “It was hot.” John took another swig from his beer and then reached out to lay a hand on Bobby’s neck. “Your neck is kinda red, Bobby…”

 

"Oh that's nothin' to get worried about, Johnny-boy. Won't be nearly as red as your ass later tonight." Bobby leered at John and ended up with a mouthful of water for his troubles.

 

Dean winced at the last comment and groaned, “There are some things a teenager doesn’t need to hear about his…” Dean hesitated before he completed that sentence. He had been about to call them his parents. To avoid any weird moments, he bent down and picked up the hose, quickly turning it on Bobby and his dad.

 

There was a chorus of yells and several rather colourful curses that were flung at him. He was laughing so hard that in the two seconds he closed his eyes in, they had him by the arms and were hauling him into the trough. He tried hard to fight going over the side but only did a more effective job of getting himself off balance and pulled in quicker.

 

Hearing Dean’s cries for help and laughter had Sam tearing out of the house. Dean had been working on the Impala and Sam had been reading a book nearby, trying to watch discretely. It was a hot day and Dean had stripped of his wifebeater shit, tucking it into the back pocket of his jeans. Sam’s long legs stumbled on the porch, never seeming to work right when he wanted them to.

 

“Dad, are you trying to drown Dean?” Sam asked. It was a stupid question, but it was the only thing that popped into his mind when he took in Bobby and his dad, holding down a struggling Dean in the cattle trough.

 

John looked up and smiled at his youngest son. "Not exactly. Just proving to him that his old man can still take him when he needs to." Dean's head erupted from beneath the surface of the water. "You give?"

 

“Yeah, yeah… whatever,” Dean pleaded with a sputtering laugh. “Just let me outta here. I’m no match for two old… *old* hunters… two old *drunk* hunters…”

 

Bobby snorted and reached for the bottle of beer sitting on the railing behind him. "Better than being a wet behind the ears pretty boy."

 

Dean had to admit the water was cooling in the heat, even if the wet jeans were chaffing. He settled next to the side, running a hand over his hair. “Can’t deny that I’m pretty,” Dean said and flexed his pecs.

 

Sam took a seat on a stack of old tires next to the makeshift pool, absently wiping at the sweat on his forehead. "Or vain… narcissistic… egotistical..."

 

Dean reached his hand outside the trough. "Where's that damn hose?"

 

“Ah, Dean!” Sam protested and tried to escape, but he was stopped by Bobby who had grabbed his t-shirt.

 

“Dean-o,” Bobby said conversationally, starting to reel Sam in by his shirt. “I think someone is too big for his britches. Don’t you?”

 

Dean smirked and reached out to ruffle Sammy's hair. "Keep hold of him. I want to do this one myself." Dean stood up and reached out, pulling Sammy into his arms. "Give your big brother a hug, Sammy-boy."

 

“Dean… Dean, no!” Sammy protested, struggling in vain to get away even as Dean’s arm locked around his shoulders. “Dad, help!”

 

There was a flourish of movement from all of them, laughter ringing loudly in the air. Sam was hefted over and into the trough but John managed to wrap himself around Dean, pulling both boys back and under the water with him. Sam came up coughing and sputtering.

 

Bobby was watching the whole scene with amusement. All of the Winchester men had been far too serious lately and it was good to see them lightening up some. Bobby had thought that John would be on the road more now that Dean was out of high school, but they where still around as much as always.

 

The pattern had been the same since he’d met John. The Winchesters were on the road for the summer, staying in backwater cabins and cheap motels. Some time in late September they would crawl back to Bobby’s place and get the boys in school. They would stick around, John helping out with the business until mid-December when they took off again returning sometime in January. The winter was his favourite time of year when they were around the most until usually May.

 

“Cool that hot head of yours, Sammy?” Bobby laughed, reaching out and smacking him on the back.

 

Sammy gave up and ducked back under the water. When he re-emerged he gave his hair a good hearty shake, flinging water everywhere. He made a show of shoving the hair back out of his face. "Sure thing, Bobby."

 

“I think someone needs a haircut,” John commented. He snagged his beer from Dean who was trying to steal a drink.

 

“Aw, Dad…” Sam whined. “I’m not cutting my hair. Dean, tell him!”

 

"Yeah, Dad. I'm the prize winner here. Better if the girl's don't look at him. Let him be." Dean leaned back from Sammy's outstretched hand which tried to smack him.

 

“Now why don’t you boys make yourselves useful,” Bobby suggested and shook his empty beer bottle at them. “Get outta my pool and go get us some more beer from the kitchen?”

 

Sammy's brow wrinkled a bit and he glanced up at John through his lashes. "It's awful hot out. Beer's only gonna dehydrate you." The concern was very much apparent in the youngest Winchester's face.

 

“How about whiskey then?” John asked with a smirk. It was times like this Sammy reminded him of Mary with her quiet worry for him.

 

"Daa-aaaad..."

 

“Saa-aaaam…” John teased and reached out to chuck Sammy under the chin. He never was very good at denying this boy much. “Suppose we could get out, huh Bobby? You wanted to show me that… ah, thing. Right?”

 

Bobby was still in the warm caress of the alcohol and couldn’t resist. “That thing in my bedroom?”

 

"It's in my pants actually," John snorted, but when he saw Sam start to turn red and gape he quickly amended his statement. "I mean..." Finally he snorted and slapped his hand on the water. "Oh hell, he's fourteen. Hell, Dean wasn't too much older when we caught him in the barn with... which one of the twins was it?" 

 

"Both of them, different nights," Bobby chuckled. "Their mama still hasn't forgiven me for Dean corrupting her daughter... or son."

 

“Hello, sitting right here next to you!” Dean waved his hands in their faces. “And I didn’t corrupt either of them. Sara Beth had her tongue halfway down my throat before I could even ask her how she was doing.”

 

John laughed and splashed water in Dean’s direction. “What about Richard then?”

 

Dean gave a smirk and looked away. “That one I’m not commenting on.” Dean leaned over the side of the trough and snagged John’s denim jeans. He held them up with one hand and shook them a little. “In these pants?”

 

John reached out and snatched them from Dean. “You’ll find out after dinner, birthday boy.”

 

"We got two surprises," Bobby said with a hiccup and stood up. Luckily, he had his pants on. "Johnny, why don't you have your pants on? Put'em back on so we can go inside 'n' then I can take them off again." 

 

"I took them off 'cause it was hot," John said. Water was sloshing out of the trough as John pulled them on under the water. "It's still hot." He stood up and they weren't buttoned. Trying to lift one leg, John fell backwards, half landing on Dean’s lap. Dean gave an outraged cry and tried to shift his father off of him and only succeeded in having one of John’s elbows smack Sammy upside the temple.

 

“Damn it, dad!”

 

“M’sorry, Sammy. Can’t move in these damn things.”

 

“’Cause they’re wet. C’mon, dad, get off’a me!” Dean gave John’s back a hard shove that sent him face first into the water again. Bobby was nearly having a conniption fit, bent over at the waist and laughing as he held onto the side of the trough. 

 

Bobby finally managed to stumble, half climbing over Dean to help John out of the trough. In the process, his hand just so happened to find it's way to John's ass.

 

"Ew!" Sam cried out in horror. "I'm scarred now!" He closed his eyes and sunk back under the water. Air bubbles floating up as he screamed under the water.

 

Dean reached out and pulled Sam up by the hair. With an evil grin on his face, he leaned forward and asked, "Do you really want to be doing that? Ask yourself what they were doing in the water?"

 

"Oh... EW! That's..." He didn't finish his tirade because he looked over to see Bobby's hand was still on John's ass. "You two are always like this when you get drunk. I'm scarred for life!" 

 

John turned to say something but his feet got tangled with Bobby’s and they both went right down into the dirt.

 

“Son of a….”

 

“Watch your knee, Johnny! OW! I didn’t say MOVE it!”

 

“Wouldja let go of my ass so I can move!?”

 

“My hand is currently holding my nuts ‘cause I think you just sent them running up into my stomach screaming in pain, you idiot!”

 

Dean rolled his eyes and clambered out of the makeshift pool. He gave Sam a hand out and went straight for the hose. “You guys are just too pervy for your own good and now you’re filthy.” He handed the hose to Sammy. “You wanna do the honours since you’re scarred for life?”

 

Sammy point the hose at Bobby and John, who both started to scramble unsteadily to their feet. “Put the hose down, Sam,” John said, hands raised but body swaying ever so slightly. 

 

“Yeah, do what you’re daddy toldja, kid.”

 

Sam cast a sideways glance at Dean who stood with his arms crossed. “Gotta cool you two down,” he said, when he looked back at his father and Bobby. “Not to mention clean you off.” And with that, he squeezed the nozzle.

 

The water hit John straighten in the face and he spat out a mouth full of muddy water. Bobby was next and Sam just laughed as the stumbled trying to stand up.

 

"I'm gonna kill'im!" John laughed. "He's a dead boy!"

 

"John, not now!" Bobby yelled out dramatically as he held John back. His arms were wrapped around John's waist. 

 

"Why the hell not! I just got squirted by a squirt!"

 

"Because!" He hand moved suggestively up John's chest.

 

"Because?"

 

"Yeah," Bobby nodded. "We gotta take a shower. And you gotta show me something, remember? 'Sides, we got lots of time to plan our revenge. Sober..."

 

“Ah, man…they’re doing it again!” Sam moaned, cringing.

 

 

****************

 

“To be quite honest with ya, Johnny, I figured this would have happened for his last birthday…ON his actual birthday,” Bobby said, moving around in the kitchen trying to keep an eye on the roast and potatoes in the oven as well as three other pots on the stove.

 

“You remember what was going on during his last birthday? I caught holy hell from Sam for not being here for it. Not to mention I wanted her in tip top shape before I let Dean have her. She’s a piece of work, Bobby. I think Dean’s old enough to understand what she means to this family. I know I’m a few months behind on his gift but I did give him that crossbow with the silvertipped arrows on the actual day. This is just a bonus for him.”

 

"Oh be honest…" Bobby chuckled. "You were gonna give it to him, then you couldn't do it. You chickened out."

 

"I did not."

 

"John Winchester, you so chickened out. But it's good to see you making amends. Truth is, sometimes I get damn jealous of your attachment to that car."

 

“Like your unhealthy attachment to your remaining John Deere hat?” John brought his hand up and flicked the brim, earning him a scowl.

 

“Yeah, well…you killed my other one. Made it all girly and full of staple holes.”

 

John glanced out the kitchen window, watching as Dean and Sam lined up bottles on one of the old fences out back. Dean was trying to teach Sam how to work the kid’s new slingshot. Smiling, he reached down and patted the keys in his pocket. “He deserves the Impala. He doesn’t think I realize how much he does for Sam…and for me, too. He honestly doesn’t even care what he’s given up. That’s why she needs to be his.”

 

"We both know how much this'll mean to him. But this means one thing…"

 

John smirked at Bobby. "I can still borrow her… we can drive her out to…"

 

Bobby smacked John on the shoulder remembering exactly what John was referring to. "I was talking about the fact that you won't have any wheels." 

 

"It won't be the Impala, but I'll find something."

 

"Yeah, about that…" Bobby gave John a shit eating grin.

 

“Oh god, what did you do?”

 

Bobby shook his head and held both hands out in front of him. “I know how you are, Johnny. You’ll give Dean-o the Impala and then be borrowing it all the damn time because you have no ride. Doesn’t really make the car his if you keep havin’ to take off with it. So, made a deal with one of the guys I know visits here regular for parts. Your transportation needs are pretty much taken care of.”

 

John raised an eyebrow. “You got me a car?”

 

Bobby shook his head and laughed. “You can see yours after Dean gets his. No sooner and no later. Patience, Johnny-boy, is a virtue.”

 

"I lost all of my virtues a long time ago, Singer."

 

"Don't I know it. Hell, in fact, I know I was involved in relieving you of some of your virtue…" 

 

"Shut up, Bobby," John growled and looked away to hide a hint of a blush. He was a hunter and father. He was John Winchester. He did not blush. "Let's go give Dean his car."

 

“Oh no, you’re not doing that just yet. Not after I’ve been in here getting all this stuff cooked for dinner. Dean and you can wait a bit longer, you sneaky bastard.” Bobby pulled down a stack of plates from the cupboard and shoved them into John’s arms. “Set the table. Dean’s gonna have his birthday dinner first, then he can have his present. And then once he and Sammy take off for a bit, ‘cause you know he’s gonna want to drive it right off the bat, then you may have your present.” Bobby reached into the nearby drawer and started piling silverware on top of the plates. “And so help me god, if you try to rush them through dinner I will find ten different ways to kick your ass tonight.”

 

"Only ten? You're slipping."

 

"Ten nasty ways, John. It's all about the quality of torture that counts."

 

"Uh huh," John said. He watched as Bobby set the plates down and checked on the food. He could smell the fresh corn bread in the oven. "You know you could cook anything and that boy would eat it."

 

"Not really… torture number one, your cooking… though that's making everyone suffer. And I know the boys will eat damn near anything, which is why I cooked so damn much today. Eating me outta house and home, I swear."

 

John chuckled and finished setting the dinner table. “They’re growing boys, Bobby. Sam’s sprouted up two inches in just the last six months. I should have taken out stock in ibuprofen a long time ago. He’s been inhaling them like candy.”

 

Bobby pulled the roast out of the oven and sat it down on the stovetop, poking at the potatoes to make sure they were done. “He’s been keeping Dean up nights with all his aches and pains. You were dead to the world last night. I’m surprised you didn’t hear their arguing. I ended up having to go in and tell them both to quiet to down.”

 

"Sam's just a mystery sometimes." John just signed and shook his head. "Though being confined with Dean in any small space can't be fun. Maybe I should try separating them again?"

 

"You remember what happened last time?"

 

"That was years ago…"

 

“Exactly…and even thought there’s a perfectly good set of bunk beds in their room they still insist on sleeping in the same one. I’d say the whole separating thing would just cause more problems than it’s worth… again. They want to sleep separately they will.” Bobby reached out and pushed the window up over the kitchen sink. “Get washed up! Supper’s on!”

 

He could hear John chuckling softly behind him as he closed the window. Turning, he leaned back against the counter and gave John a smirk. “What’s so damn funny, Johnny-boy?”

 

John shook his head and only succeeded in laughing harder. “Just…just had a…Cleaver family moment going on in my head when you yelled that to them.”

 

"Don't you dare start sayin' that I'm June…"

 

"Well, you *do* have an apron…"

 

"It's got a fish on it!" Bobby protested automatically. "And you're the one who gave it to me." 

 

"That's 'cause you're a mess when you cook." When Bobby's facial expression darkened, he quickly added, "But you're a damn good cook. Not June at all… too hairy." He didn't want to be eating his own cooking.

 

John was saved by the boys crashing through the mudroom door and creating all kinds of ruckus as they shouldered each other trying to get to their room to clean up. John’s chair was run into by Sam, caused by Dean who was snickering as he took the lead into the living room. Sam managed to sneak up behind him and knock him sideways into the wall and get down the hallway first.

 

“Quit tryin’ to bust up my place, you heathens!” Bobby yelled, rolling his eyes as he pulled two beers out of the refrigerator for him and John.

 

A chorus of “sorry” drifted back down the hallway and the sudden chaos was over for the moment. 

 

John and Bobby left the boys to clean up until they heard one hell of a racket coming from upstairs.

 

"What in the hell is going on in there?" John bellowed.

 

"Nothin' that I can handle!" Dean called back down. There was the sound of muffled thumping, cursing and then silence. 

 

John waited for the inevitable aftermath. He was only met with more silence. John exchanged a nervous glance with Bobby. Living with two teenage boys, they were used to chaos and constant noise. "It's quiet… that can't be good." 

 

Bobby tapped his fingers on the countertop, listening to… well, nothing. His face scrunched up a bit. “You don’t think they’ve gone and killed each other, do ya? I am so not cleaning up that mess. They’re your kids, Winchester. You get to clean up spilled blood, not me.”

 

John rolled his eyes. “You’ve cleaned your share up of Winchester blood in the past. Never bothered you then.”

 

“They weren’t dead, neither,” came Bobby’s chuckling reply. “Besides…”

 

“You jerk!”

 

“Shut up, bitch. You’re head’s gonna be fine. Can’t help that you’re some giant freak…”

 

“You just wait! He’s gonna see this and then you can explain…”

 

“Boys!” John’s voice reached ear shattering decibels on that yell, making Bobby grimace and stick a finger in one ear.

 

“Shit, Sam. Now you’ve done it,” Dean’s voice was softer but still carrying well enough.

 

"Get down here!"

 

There was more thumping and hissed voices, followed by the sound of the boys thundering down the stairs.

 

"He kept crowding me in the bathroom!" Sam accused automatically.

 

"Well, if you would stop looking at your pretty face in the mirror, I would've had room," Dean shot back. "And taking up all the room with your freaky orangatang arms." 

 

"Shut up!"

 

"And then he stole my shirt!"

 

"Why didn't you just take turns using the bathroom while the other changed?" John asked with a long suffering sigh. The boys were always bitching at each other, but one was always the others shadow.

 

Dean frowned at his father’s question and shrugged. “S’what we normally do. I was trying to save time but Sasquatch here had to hog up all the room.”

 

Sam glared back at his brother and lifted one arm to poke Dean in the chest. “Wait a minute…”

 

John reached out and grabbed Sam by the wrist, turning his arm over a little bit. “You wait a minute.” He looked at the red marks on Sam’s skin and his mouth became a hard line. “You wanna tell me why Sam’s scratched up and got fingernail marks on his arm, Dean?”

 

Dean instantly turned ashen and looked guilty. Sam tried to pull away his arm from his dad's grip, but failed. "He accidentally scratched me."

 

"You don't accidentally scratch someone…" John's thumb pressed down on the marks. 

 

"Well, you can accidentally scratch someone when you have them in a headlock…" Sam grumbled. "And can you buy him some new deodorant? 'Cause he stinks… though not sure anything would be strong enough to take care of Dean stink."

 

"Hey!" Dean made and face and mock lunged at Sam. "Like you don't stink. And you wouldn't have gotten scratched if you hadn't struggled so much."

 

John rolled his eyes. “Alright, that’s enough. You two are getting too big now to be playing around like this. I don’t want it escalating into an all out war between the two of you ‘cause one of you might get hurt.”

 

Sam cringed inwardly and slid his gaze to the side to look at Dean who frowned back. “I don’t have any plans on punching him again if that’s what you’re getting at, Dad.”

 

“I don’t think you were planning on it last time either, son. The two of you are just too damn stubborn at times and your both hot headed,” John gave a nod to the two empty chairs at the table. “Sit down.”

 

Dean sensed the serious tone in his dad's voice. "It was my fault, sir. We were just playing around."

 

"I know… I know…" John motioned to the chairs. "You're not in trouble. I know you weren't trying to hurt each other. But sometimes I think you forget you've both grown up so much… I know I do. You're both young men now." 

 

“Well, some of us are men,” Dean laughed as he sat down in his chair. “Sam just looks like one because he’s so freakin’ gargantuanly huge.”

 

Sam shot Dean a dirty look across the table. “This coming from the nineteen year-old who still says ‘pull my finger’ like it’s the greatest joke in the world.”

 

“Hey, that’s a classic!”

 

“What are you, five?”

 

“Look, Sasquatch…”

 

“Boys.” John didn’t even raise his voice but the underlying threat in the tone had them both shutting their mouths and sitting up a bit straighter. 

 

“Sorry, dad.”

 

“Sorry, sir.”

 

Bobby chuckled. “Never a dull moment ‘round here, is there, Johnny?”

 

"Never dull…" John agreed "But never sane either."

 

Bobby smiled at both the boys. "Sanity's overrated."

 

"Now, Dean, how much good behaviour do you think I'd be able to buy if I told you I got you something you've been wanting pretty damn badly?" 

 

Sam’s mouth dropped open and he had to put his fork back on the plate. “Dad… you got Dean a brain! That’s great!” There was laughter all the way around the table for a moment and then Sam was peeling a French cut string bean off the side of his face. “Real mature, Dean.”

 

Sitting back in his chair, Dean placed his hands behind his head for a minute. “Thanks, I do try.” After a grin and a wink, he turned his attention back to his father. “Okay, to answer your question, I’d have to say how in the hell did you manage to buy me Pamela Anderson?”

 

“Told ya he needed the brain more,” Sam laughed, flinging a piece of cornbread at Dean’s head. “Just buy him the cardboard cut out at the local movie shop. He’ll be set for life and it won’t cost you that much.”

 

John gave a shrug of his shoulders. “Okay, I’ll just give your present to someone else then. What a shame.”

 

"You know, John, I've always had a love for those old muscle cars…"

 

Dean's face went from a smirk, to his mouth gaping open a bit. "You got me a car?"

 

"Not just any car," John said and made a tsking sound. He reached into his pockets and jingled the keys. "But it's a shame you…"

 

Dean stood up so quickly the chair he was sitting on went skittering back. "I want it. What kind? What colour?"

 

"Mmm, I don't know, Bobby, maybe I should give her to you."

 

Dean gaped some more. "Her? Dad, c'mon…" John pulled out the keys to the Impala. "Not the Impala…"

 

“You don’t want the Impala?” John’s voice was teasing and amused as he watched Dean’s eyes follow the keys swinging in his hands. “I guess I could always get you a minivan or something then.”

 

Dean didn’t say a word, his eyes staring at the keys and then glancing back up into John’s face before going back to the keys again.

 

“Christ, John, give the boy the keys before he goes into cardiac arrest from sheer anticipation.” Bobby gave John’s shin a quick kick under the table. “He drops dead, you’re buryin’ him all by your lonesome.”

 

With a flick of his wrist, John sent the keys into the air and Dean snatched them up effortlessly before making a dash for the backdoor. 

 

“Dean! Your dinner’s gonna get…” The door slammed shut with a bang. “…cold.” Bobby turned and grinned at John. “Good thing we got a microwave.”

 

“Dad…” Sam was fidgeting in his chair, eyes wide and puppy-like.

 

With a long suffering sigh, John waved his hand as he bit into his cornbread. “Go on, Sammy.”

 

"Thanks, Dad!" Sammy yelled and had already launched himself out of the chair.

 

"You know they're gonna get in all sorts of trouble, don't you?" Bobby asked this with a grin.

 

"Without a doubt. I already have their punishment in mind." John gave a wistful look towards the door as he heard her engine roaring to life. "I love that car. I was a little worried Sam was going to get all pouty…" 

 

Bobby heaped a pile of potatoes on to his plate and took a sip from his glass of iced tea. “You know damn well that what’s Dean’s is Sam’s. He lets the boy have anything he wants. It’s as much Sam’s now as it is Dean’s. Though I got a feeling this’ll be the one thing he won’t bug Dean about. That boy’s been fawning all over the Impala for as long as I can remember. Sam’ll be content so long as he’s sitting right in that passenger seat and gets a chance to drive her every once in a while.”

 

John nodded his head and took another bite of his roast. “And Dean will bitch the entire time Sam’s driving, I’m sure.” Music blared through the open kitchen window. “He’s gonna blow the damn speakers out.”

 

Bobby chuckled. “Let him have his fun for now. He’ll learn.”

 

"Probably." John was silent for a bit and scooped some mashed potatoes on to his own plate. "So I was in the hardware store the other day."

 

"Got that rope we needed?"

 

"Yeah." John nodded. "But talked to Bert. He says hi, by the way. Said you had a… lady friend while I was away."

 

Bobby’s fork paused halfway to his mouth and he glanced at John. “He did, did he?”

 

John met Bobby’s gaze head on, his face expressionless. “Yeah, he did.”

 

“Old coot never could keep his damn mouth shut about anything. Did I ever tell you about the time he started gossiping about…”

 

“Bobby.” 

 

Laying the fork back down on the plate, Bobby drummed his fingers on the table top. “Why’d ya wait so long ta ask me about it? You went out early this morning and here it is after five and now you’re finally bringing it up. That why we started in on the beer so early this morning?”

 

John didn’t answer, just reached out and took a sip from his glass.

 

“That’s right, Johnny-boy. Go ahead and clam right up when it comes to talking about your feelings. Men don’t do that, not ever. Fuckin’ hell, John. I lived in this town all my life. Tongues wag and there ain’t a damn thing anyone can do to stop that. You weren’t here for all the waggin’ they did about you and your boys after those first few years of stoppin’ by.” Bobby stood up from the table, taking his plate and scraping it into the garbage disposal in the sink. “Guess that’s one good thing about your lifestyle. Ya never stick around long enough to hear what everyone else thinks about ya.”

 

John knew he was on touchy ground when Bobby’s voice took on a drawl. He sat there for a moment, avoided looking at where Bobby was glaring daggers at him from the kitchen sink. “What was I supposed to think?”

 

"You weren't supposed to think, you were supposed to ask me."

 

"I didn't," John snapped and then sighed. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "We don't have to talk about this. I shouldn't have brought it up." Now he opened his eyes and gave Bobby a weak smile. "We had a good time today, didn't we? I wanted to make sure we did. And it's none of my good damn business who you see…"

 

Bobby recognized something in John he hardly if ever saw… insecurity. "You jealous, Johnny?"

 

“Oh please, it’s not like you stole my prom date or some shit like that,” John replied, his voice taking on a tone that clearly stated this matter closed.

 

“Maybe it is. But with a different twist. Some pretty blonde thing hangin’ on my arm around town. Me in this great big ol’ house all by myself… maybe that is what it’s about. Only difference being that she stole your prom date.”

 

John threw his napkin down on the table and stood up. “Just forget it. It’s not like we made any type of promises or shit like that in the beginning. It is what it is.”

 

Bobby moved quickly, getting right up into John’s personal space. “Maybe it’s time you tell me exactly what ‘it’ is, John. I thought I knew and I guess you had some idea, too but we never really made it clear, did we?”

 

John growled low in his throat. “Don’t push me.”

 

“Ellen, John. Ellen Harvelle and her daughter…that’s who was here in town with me for a few days. Jo’s been wanting to follow in her daddy’s footsteps so Ellen brought her out here to me. Had me put her through a bit of training to see if maybe it would turn her stomach, make her change her mind.”

 

"Just 'cause it's Ellen doesn’t mean you didn't…"

 

"Just think for one goddamn second about what you’re sayin'," Bobby warned John and stood up straighter. "Don't you go bad mouthin' the widow of one of our friends." 

 

"I'm not," John snapped back. "There's nothing wrong if you and Ellen have a thing. You've known her for years. Jo's a good girl."

 

“You’re an idiot at the best of times, Winchester.” Bobby started past John, snatching his jacket off the hook in the kitchen. “When you get your head pulled out of your ass and actually take a minute to think about this conversation, I hope you really appreciate what the hell it is I put myself through for you and your boys.”

 

John couldn’t think of a single word to say as the back door slammed shut, leaving him alone in a room filled with food laid out for a family.

 

**********

 

Bobby woke up when he felt the bed dip next to him. He could smell the whiskey on John. "Been thinkin', Bobby…"

 

"Smells more like you've been drinking…"

 

"That to," John admitted. "Been thinkin' mostly though. ‘Bout why you'd want…" He didn't finish the sentence, just made a gesture with his hand. "It's been a while since you…" John stopped and took a deep breath. "Since I let ya…"

 

“Jesus H. Christ… that’s not what this is about,” Bobby groaned, rolling over to look at John’s unshaven face. He felt guilty when he saw exactly how much this had taken a toll on John. The man wasn’t at a full on drunk yet, but he damn well could’ve been. His eyes were bloodshot and the lines in his face were deeper than normal. “You’ve been comin’ out here just a few years shy of Sammy’s whole life. You think I keep you around just to warm my bed? Christ, John, if that’s what I wanted there’s a lot of places I could go to get my needs taken care of with a lot less hassle and no extra baggage.”

 

John averted Bobby’s gaze, his mouth settling into a hard line. “I didn’t ask for this…”

 

“Well, I didn’t either but things just kinda happen when a Winchester’s around,” Bobby said, a small smile lilting the corners of his mouth. “Ain’t about me gettin’ a piece of ass, John, even if yours is mighty fine at your age. I like havin’ you and the boys here.”

 

"We like bein' here," John mumbled. He got up and stumbled a little on his feet. "Listen, just ignore everything I said, okay? I was being an ass. Everything's fine."

 

Everything was not fine and they both knew it. "John…"

 

John gave Bobby a fake smile. "I'm getting soft in my old age. It's fine. We're fine."

 

“Yeah, which is why you’re three sheets to the wind and smelling like the old brewery out on the edge of town.” Bobby shoved the covers back off him and sat up. “Why don’t you quit lyin’ to me and to yourself for once in your miserable life and just come out and say what it is you wanna say.”

 

John leaned back against the dresser and ran a hand over his face, Mary’s ring glinting in the moonlight that came through the bedroom window. Bobby had never in his life gotten angry over that ring because he understood what it was like to lose the ones you loved the most. But at that moment, as that ring seemed to wink at him in the low light, he balled his fists up and cursed the day he ever met John Winchester.

 

“You can’t talk to me, tell me what is going on in that thick head of years, Johnny-boy, then get the hell outta my room. I’m tired of playing second fiddle to a memory and to your guilt.”

 

"Guilt?" John repeated back. "You have no idea about guilt, Bobby." He looked tortured and angry all at the same time. "Want to try on my guilt? The guilt I feel… waking up next to you and not my wife. Being with you longer than her…" John's voice choked up. "I forgot her face, her smell… but not yours. There was a demon…" His voice slipped into a whisper and shook his head. "Offered me her life for yours…"

 

Bobby laughed, a very disheartening sound that seemed to echo throughout the dark room. “Well, maybe you should have taken it up on it then. At least then we’d both have what we wanted wouldn’t we? You’d have Mary, I’d be with Maureen and that would be that. One long complicated story tied up in a nice neat package with a big fucking red bow on top.” Bobby flopped himself back down onto the bed and turned away, yanking the covers back up and in place.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

Bobby silently cursed in his head. “What the hell does it look like I’m doing? I’m going back to sleep! Go give that demon a ring and get your pretty little life back and leave me alone!”

 

“I didn’t say that to make you mad…”

 

Bobby was up and out of the bed faster than he ever though possible. He got right up into John’s face and pressed a finger into the man’s chest. “Bullshit! You know damn well you did! And ya know what… you do whatever you want ‘cause you’re going to anyway.”

 

John stared at Bobby, his eyes going to slits and his face turning red. “Why the hell are you doing this to me!?”

 

“’Cause I love you, you stupid son of a bitch! Happy now!?”

 

""Fuck you!" John shouted at Bobby. "I didn't choose her!" 

 

Bobby froze suddenly. "What did you say?"

 

John turned away from Bobby. His hand went to his wedding ring and spun it. "I didn't choose her. What's dead should stay dead. So you want me to say I love you, fine I will. I love you so goddamn much, I chose you."

 

Silence. That was the only thing that registered in Bobby’s brain. His mouth opened and closed several times but he couldn’t say a word as he looked at the man in front of him. John looked away, slouching against the dresser and averting Bobby’s gaze for all he was worth. No, that wouldn’t do at all. Stepping in as close as he could, Bobby reached out and laid a hand on John’s cheek. When John tried to wrench away from him, Bobby got a grip on John’s chin, forcing him to look up.

 

“Bobby…”

 

Bobby shook his head. “Don’t. For once in your goddamn life, don’t fight me for this one.” He watched John suck in a deep breath, his whole body giving a full tremble for a second as he closed the distance. Gazes completely locked and Bobby was moving in so slowly, trying to see if there was a way to get the trust back now. When John’s hand slipped up over his chest he knew that maybe it would work out. “Don’t you dare rush me, John.”

 

“M’not,” came the ghost of a reply as John’s breath washed over Bobby’s lips just a fraction of a second before their lips pressed together.

 

He felt it again when he was kissing Bobby. John wasn't sure if love covered it. It wasn't the honeymoon love he had shared with Mary. It was tarnished, battered and worn down after years together. But it was strong. Bobby was his brother, best friend and lover, but so much more.

 

John broke away from the gentle, intense kiss. "Don't know how you can love me, Bobby. Don't know how you can love something that's broken.”

 

Bobby’s hand was still cupping John’s chin, his thumb now brushing gently at the corner of John’s mouth. “Both broken, Johnny. But even our ragged edges seem to fit close enough to make us whole.”

 

John leaned forward, letting his forehead rest against Bobby’s, sharing uneven breaths in the post-midnight hour. He felt the fool for his admission but the sting didn’t go as deep as he’d expected it to. He let Bobby get him undressed, still a bit too wobbly and unfocused to do it on his own. Cool sheets beneath his back, he reached out and started tracing patterns on Bobby’s arm.

 

“Wouldn’t wear a ring for you, Bobby…” John felt Bobby tense under his touch and he sighed. “Shit, I’m not good at this touchy feely stuff. Wouldn’t wear a ring for you ‘cause you don’t need protecting. It means something else for me. What we have, it doesn’t have a name. Every time we bleed together… every time we fight and then make up, it’s more than a vow. Shit, I’m fuckin’ this up…”

 

“Now I know where Dean gets it from,” Bobby answered softly. “Look, John… it’s been a long ass day. You’ve been out to the bar and you don’t got all your mental faculties working upstairs as it is. We’ve both said our piece so let’s just go to sleep, huh? Don’t need to be talking about rings and shit like that anyway.”

 

"Saw you looking at mine," John said and laid his head on Bobby's shoulder. He reached out and grabbed Bobby's left hand. "You don't wear one."

 

“Don’t need to. Not saying this to make you mad or anything, but I remember her just fine. The ring felt more like a security blanket to me than anything. Kind of cut me out of the world by wearing it, made me live in the past. So I took it off.” Bobby rolled onto his side and propped his head up on his hand. “But that’s your fire, Johnny. That’s what keeps you going then you keep right on wearing it. I didn’t have any right to say what I did earlier. Ain’t no one, not even me, ever gonna take the place of her.”

 

John was silent for a long time. What he was thinking felt like a betrayal to Mary, but he had to say it. Bobby deserved it. "And she couldn't take your place either..."

 

Bobby managed a grin. “Yeah well, I don’t think she’d be ever so happy running a salvage yard and chasing down demons anyway.”

 

“She never did look good in flannel either,” John answered, his eyelids drooping a little bit. "And she couldn't shoot worth a damn," John said. It felt like something was lifted off his chest. It was the first time he was able to really talk to Bobby about his wife with out overwhelming guilt. "She would've liked you. Would've liked how you've been for her boys."

 

Bobby’s fingers were working in John’s hair now, trying to ease some more of the tension out of him. “I got a strange feeling she was one of those kind of women that put you in your place, too. Wasn’t afraid to come right out and give you hell.”

 

John felt himself relaxing. "Guess I got a type and good taste..." The last few words slipped into a whisper as his eyes closed.

 

Bobby lay there watching as John finally drifted off to sleep, fingers still working through John’s hair. Once the man’s breathing evened out, he reached out and took a hold of John’s hand, staring at the gold band there.

 

“Damn but if you didn’t leave the biggest hole in the world in him, Mrs. Winchester,” he whispered into the darkness. “Even so, I think that maybe I have you to thank for all of this.”

 

His own eyes were beginning to slip closed but even as he fell into a comforting sleep, he could have sworn he felt fingers in his own hair and the soft sound of a voice shushing him.


End file.
